I Love Her, Scars and All

My love for her has sometimes been called into question, mostly by those who have never found a love of their own. The tell me that I can do better for myself, and that I should expect more from the one I give my heart to. It's a funny thing, this thing called love. It seems to me that no matter what they have, people by their selfish nature always seem to want more and more, no matter what it costs. But I have found that the love I have for her is something that cannot be shaken by the doubts and criticisms of other people.

She has her scars, and she has her faults, but I knew that going into this relationship. Yeah, she's a little older than me, and that was always an issue for other people, but I find that there is a certain wisdom that can come only with the passage of time. And since she has seen a lot more in her time than I have seen in mine, I will trust that she might have a better view of things, especially the things I have yet to see for myself.

Now, I have done a lot of things in my life, and I am not so ashamed to admit that of some of those things I am not so proud. She too has her sins, and has also borne the brunt of righteous ridicule. Though we have both committed sins, we have atoned for them and have done more to make them right than those who stand in judgment of our relationship while never admitting their own flaws.

I love her, not only for her well-spoken words and great deeds of charity, but also for the scars she bares, both physical and otherwise. It is her scars and sins that have given her her beauty and tested her resolve.

I ask of her nothing, but she demands my best. When I reach out for her hand, she is always there, not to lift me up or to be my crutch, but to give me the assurance that I can stand on my own. It is that warm yet distant strength, that voice calling me to my feet, that somehow soothes my pain. She, like my mother, will stand on the sideline, cheering me on, but letting me fail or succeed on my own accord. She doesn't want me to falter, but she knows that with every failure comes the knowledge required to move beyond and to move ahead.

While to me she is one of Gods greatest creations, there are some who would want her to change. They want her to soften her image and cover her scars. They would impose upon her their ideal and remove from her her unique beauty. Those she is presented to would sanitize her past, while in the privacy of like-minded fools, they would sully her soul. They would take from her her potential while dismissing all the good she has done.

What they do not understand is that it is exactly the things they would change that have made her who she is. To say you love is to be accepting. Long has it been the quest of men and women to take and mold into unachievable imagery that which we claim to love unconditionally. That is not love, but desire and infatuation. We cast onto others the shortcomings we see in ourselves and expect things to be something they are not.

For me, love is not something to be twisted and molded, but to be cherished for what it is. Much like the vows of matrimony, we are to love, for better or worse, for richer or poorer. And while she has sometimes given me less than I wanted, she has always given me exactly what I deserved. I can only hope that she gives me the respect and love that I have given to her, but if she falls short of that wish, that is fine, too...because I love her for what she is.

And while you may say to me that I deserve better, I will ask you, "Why?" Is it not good enough that she has given me everything that I need? Is it not good enough that I was blessed to be in her company? It is not by mere good fortune that she has embraced me in her arms and allowed me to strive for everything while asking of me only that I protect her from those who would have me dismiss her. Is it too much for them to understand that she is everything that has filled the dreams of those less fortunate? Is it not enough for them to know that millions and millions would give everything they have for one breath of her, one touch from her loving hand, one glimpse of her radiance, one chance to live in her heart?

What would they have her be? An apologetic, apathetic shell, to be filled with the empty promise of an unattainable utopia? I'm sorry, but that is not love; that is dissatisfaction. And for those so dissatisfied with the one I love that they would destroy everything she is, I have a message...

This is my America, and I love her, scars and all.
My love for her has sometimes been called into question, mostly by those who have never found a love of their own. The tell me that I can do better for myself, and that I should expect more from the one I give my heart to. It's a funny thing, this thing called love. It seems to me that no matter what they have, people by their selfish nature always seem to want more and more, no matter what it costs. But I have found that the love I have for her is something that cannot be shaken by the doubts and criticisms of other people.

She has her scars, and she has her faults, but I knew that going into this relationship. Yeah, she's a little older than me, and that was always an issue for other people, but I find that there is a certain wisdom that can come only with the passage of time. And since she has seen a lot more in her time than I have seen in mine, I will trust that she might have a better view of things, especially the things I have yet to see for myself.

Now, I have done a lot of things in my life, and I am not so ashamed to admit that of some of those things I am not so proud. She too has her sins, and has also borne the brunt of righteous ridicule. Though we have both committed sins, we have atoned for them and have done more to make them right than those who stand in judgment of our relationship while never admitting their own flaws.

I love her, not only for her well-spoken words and great deeds of charity, but also for the scars she bares, both physical and otherwise. It is her scars and sins that have given her her beauty and tested her resolve.

I ask of her nothing, but she demands my best. When I reach out for her hand, she is always there, not to lift me up or to be my crutch, but to give me the assurance that I can stand on my own. It is that warm yet distant strength, that voice calling me to my feet, that somehow soothes my pain. She, like my mother, will stand on the sideline, cheering me on, but letting me fail or succeed on my own accord. She doesn't want me to falter, but she knows that with every failure comes the knowledge required to move beyond and to move ahead.

While to me she is one of Gods greatest creations, there are some who would want her to change. They want her to soften her image and cover her scars. They would impose upon her their ideal and remove from her her unique beauty. Those she is presented to would sanitize her past, while in the privacy of like-minded fools, they would sully her soul. They would take from her her potential while dismissing all the good she has done.

What they do not understand is that it is exactly the things they would change that have made her who she is. To say you love is to be accepting. Long has it been the quest of men and women to take and mold into unachievable imagery that which we claim to love unconditionally. That is not love, but desire and infatuation. We cast onto others the shortcomings we see in ourselves and expect things to be something they are not.

For me, love is not something to be twisted and molded, but to be cherished for what it is. Much like the vows of matrimony, we are to love, for better or worse, for richer or poorer. And while she has sometimes given me less than I wanted, she has always given me exactly what I deserved. I can only hope that she gives me the respect and love that I have given to her, but if she falls short of that wish, that is fine, too...because I love her for what she is.

And while you may say to me that I deserve better, I will ask you, "Why?" Is it not good enough that she has given me everything that I need? Is it not good enough that I was blessed to be in her company? It is not by mere good fortune that she has embraced me in her arms and allowed me to strive for everything while asking of me only that I protect her from those who would have me dismiss her. Is it too much for them to understand that she is everything that has filled the dreams of those less fortunate? Is it not enough for them to know that millions and millions would give everything they have for one breath of her, one touch from her loving hand, one glimpse of her radiance, one chance to live in her heart?

What would they have her be? An apologetic, apathetic shell, to be filled with the empty promise of an unattainable utopia? I'm sorry, but that is not love; that is dissatisfaction. And for those so dissatisfied with the one I love that they would destroy everything she is, I have a message...

This is my America, and I love her, scars and all.